


Study Break

by relucant



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, First Time, Library Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-16 09:52:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2265264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relucant/pseuds/relucant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Stop whining,” Cas said. “Finish your outline and we’ll go. There’s beer at the apartment. We’ll put on Star Wars and pretend we never set foot in the library over break.”</p><p>“Castiel Novak,” Dean said, putting his hand to his heart, “you are the wind beneath my wings.”</p><p>“Idiot,” Cas said affectionately, hoping Dean didn’t notice the hot flush creeping up his neck. He snatched his pen back and returned to his paper.</p><p>They worked in silence for several minutes, punctuated only by Dean’s occasional groans of boredom. Finally he pushed his laptop away and opened his mouth to complain when another clap of thunder shook the walls, much louder than before, and the lights flickered briefly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Study Break

**Author's Note:**

> There is probably a lot of little errors and I know there's some POV inconsistency but fuck you I've been on a bus or in a bus station the entire time I wrote this.

“Seriously, Cas, we’re on _Christmas break_. What the fuck are we doing in the library again?”

Cas groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Dean, as we’ve been over ad nauseum, our final senior thesis proposals are due as soon as we get back. If you’d turned in your rough draft before break -- which I know for a fact you did not -- you might not have to write it all over break. Nor is mine ready for submission.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “So you’re only on, what, your seventh rough draft? Eighth?”

“Dean, you know I find the rewrite process to be --”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean interrupted. “You know your nerd talk ain’t gonna rub off on me. I’ll run spellcheck an hour before deadline and I’ll be good.”

“You mean you’ll hand me a copy of it the day before it’s due and I’ll make it pretty,” Cas grumbled.

Dean grinned at him. “ _Did you ever know that you’re my heeee-ro…_ ” he sang, loud and off-key.

“ _Dean_ ,” Cas hissed, trying to bite down the laugh bubbling up from his chest. “We’re in the _library_.”

“Us and basically nobody else,” Dean pointed out. “And we’re in a study room anyway.” He grabbed Cas’ pen, holding it up to his mouth like a microphone. “ _You’re everything I would like to be-e-eeee…_ ”

Cas put his head on the table. “You are a _lunatic_ ,” he informed Dean, grabbing futilely for his pen. “I don’t know _how_ you get the grades you do.”

“Hey, I actually _do_ get my work done,” Dean said, feigning offense. “...Eventually.”

Cas snorted, then jumped as a crack of thunder shuddered through the building. “Jesus!” he yelped.

“Scared of storms?” Dean teased, poking him in the ribs.

“Startled me,” Cas retorted, swatting his hand away. “Is it storming? How long’ve we been here?”

“Must be, if we heard it all the way in here. It was starting to snow earlier, but not bad.” He checked his watch. “Oh, gross, it’s almost midnight. We’ve been here like four hours. You’re a terrible influence on me,” he complained.

“Stop whining,” Cas said. “Finish your outline and we’ll go. There’s beer at the apartment. We’ll put on _Star Wars_ and pretend we never set foot in the library over break.”

“Castiel Novak,” Dean said, putting his hand to his heart, “you are the wind beneath my wings.”

“Idiot,” Cas said affectionately, hoping Dean didn’t notice the hot flush creeping up his neck. He snatched his pen back and returned to his paper.

They worked in silence for several minutes, punctuated only by Dean’s occasional groans of boredom. Finally he pushed his laptop away and opened his mouth to complain when another clap of thunder shook the walls, much louder than before, and the lights flickered briefly.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Cas, I believe that is an undeniable sign from the gods that it’s time for us to get the fuck out of here.”

Cas sighed, nodding reluctantly. They gathered their things and shrugged on their jackets, and had just begun making their way to the seventh-floor elevators when the lights flickered again, then went out completely.

Dean stopped immediately in the pitch-black, but Cas walked straight into him, sending him flailing hip-first into the corner of a table.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Dean swore, rubbing his side.

“Shit, shit, sorry,” Cas said. “Um -- I see an exit sign in the corner, must be the stairs…” He started to back away, but Dean reached out blindly and caught at his shirt.

“Hold on,” he said, slightly of breath. “Lights’ll probably come back on in a minute, don’t wanna risk any more table collisions.”

“Sorry,” Cas apologized again, leaning gingerly beside Dean against the table. “Are you OK?”

“A’course,” Dean said. “Probably gonna bruise, but I’ll just say I got in a fight in the library. Or got laid in the library,” he added as an afterthought. “Gotta admit, pretty classic porn intro we got goin’ on here.”

Cas snorted. “If only I were some succulent little freshman girl, instead of your decidedly be-penised roommate.”

Dean choked at that and doubled over, coughing and laughing. “Did you just seriously say _be-penised_?” he finally managed.

Cas grinned at him, teeth flashing. “Kindly do not mock my lexical eccentricities,” he said loftily. Dean shoved at him with his shoulder, and Cas shrieked, tumbling to the floor.

“Assbutt,” he grumbled, scrambling up and dusting himself off.

“You deserved it,” Dean said with a smirk. He stood up, squinting as his eyes began to adjust, then held out his hand. Cas blinked, and Dean tried to ignore the unearthly glow of his eyes in the darkness. He wiggled his fingers. “C’mon, ‘m pretty sure if we get separated we’re automatically in a horror movie.”

Cas reached out, just linking their index fingers together, but Dean grabbed his hand firmly. Cas swallowed, letting Dean drag him towards the stairwell.

“Goddammit,” Dean muttered, pushing open the stairwell door and stepping carefully into the blackness, the red glow of exit markers spiralling below them only heightening the disorientation. “Cas, if we break our necks here, I’m sorry for every empty milk carton I put back in the fridge.”

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Cas informed him, but he gripped Dean’s hand a bit harder, taking a step forward.

“Wait,” Dean said suddenly. He let go of Cas’ hand and fumbled in his pocket, pulling out his phone.

“Who --?” Cas asked, but Dean waved him off, swiping at the screen, until a narrow but bright beam of light shone out.

“Flashlight app,” he announced proudly.

“You’re a genius, Dean,” Cas said. “You’re forgiven all your fucking milk cartons.”

“I’m holding you to that,” Dean said.

Small as it was, the light from the phone was more than enough for them to see by, and Cas was surprised when Dean reached out for his hand again.

“What?” he said defensively, at Cas’ questioning glance. “Still not convinced there’s not a serial killer in here somewhere. Or a ghost.”

Cas rolled his eyes, but he didn’t let go as they crept slowly down the stairs. “Are we the only ones in here?” he asked, his voice echoing eerily. “You’d think some other stragglers would be heading out too…”

“Guess we’re the only losers tonight,” Dean grumbled. “Good thing, too, ‘cause if anyone caught me in the library over break I’d never live it down.”

“Don’t worry,” Cas said. “If anyone saw you in the library at _all_ they’d just assume they’re having stress-induced hallucinations.”

“Asshole,” Dean said, snickering.

Finally they pushed open the door and stepped out into the main lobby. It, too, was completely unlit, and even the front desk was dark and empty.

“Uh… I thought the library was open all night during finals?” Dean said.

Cas gave him an exasperated look. “It was. During finals. Which ended last week. Now it’s just open regular…” he trailed off.

“So twenty minutes ago,” Dean finished. “But they can’t have locked up and left the instant it turned midnight, can they?”

Cas shrugged, looking around. He began heading towards the doors, still dragging Dean with him, then stopped. “Oh, shit,” he said blankly.

The snow had piled up thigh-deep against the doors, and a printed sign was taped to the glass: DUE TO INCLEMENT WEATHER, THE LIBRARY WILL BE CLOSING AT 9 PM.

“...Shit,” Dean agreed. He dropped Cas’ hand and reached for the handle, jiggling it, but it was locked down.

“Great,” Cas sighed. “We’ll have to use an emergency exit. Which will set off the alarm. And then somehow get home through this mess, if we manage to dodge security…”

He turned to scan for the nearest emergency door, but Dean caught his wrist again.

“We could stay here,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“In the _library_?” Cas said in disbelief.

“Why not?” Dean said. “Not like anybody’s gonna come looking in here, not with a gazillion feet of snow blocking the doors. And c’mon, haven’t you always wanted to do something like this? It’ll be _so-o-o_ romantic,” he drawled.

Cas rolled his eyes. The rational parts of his mind reminded him that spending the night in a dark, creepy library was probably not going to be much help in diffusing the lasting little crush he had on his very straight best friend and roommate, but his primitive lizard brain had agreed before those parts quite caught up. And when Dean’s eyes lit up with excitement, he couldn’t bring himself to back out.

“It’s an adventure!” he said, dragging Cas back towards the stairwell. “Like that one movie. You know, with the chick from _Labyrinth_.”

“You know I don’t understand that reference, Dean,” Cas said, but he let himself be pulled along.

By 3:00 they had played an hour-long game of Hide and Seek throughout the entire History section, without ever quite designating who was hiding and who was seeking, and were cleaning up the fallout from an indoor “snowball” fight, held with makeshift snowballs made from wadded-up printer paper and fought from behind upended tables serving as forts. Cas was flushed and laughing, and Dean grinned at him triumphantly.

“See, this is what libraries _should_ be used for,” he said. “Kicking your ass with paper snowballs is _way_ more fun than studying.”

“Kicking _my_ \-- excuse me, Winchester, I believe I hit you with at _least_ three snowballs for every one you got to my side.”

“Keep tellin’ yourself that, sweetheart,” Dean said, expertly lobbing a stray ball of paper into a trash can.

Cas grabbed a couple that had rolled off into a corner. He paused, then whipped around and threw them at Dean, nailing him with a double shot between the eyes.

Dean gaped at him, and Cas doubled over laughing. “You absolute _fucker_ ,” Dean yelled, snorting. “You dirty, cheating little --”

He launched himself at Cas, and Cas took off running with a shriek. He careened down random aisles and vaulted over sofas, even ducking into a stairwell and taking the steps in threes, but eventually Dean caught up and cornered him in the Religion section.

“Ha!” he yelled, tackling Cas to the floor. Cas collapsed face-first with something between a laugh and a groan, and Dean immediately sat on the back of his legs, catching his wrists behind his back with the other. "Try to sneak-attack _me_ ," he scoffed, and with his free hand he dug out handfuls of paper balls from his pockets and began stuffing them down the collar of Cas' t-shirt.

Cas shrieked and writhed, trying to focus on the itchy paper scratching at his back instead of the sensation of Dean's fingertips on the sensitive skin of his neck, and he was infinitely glad his position hid the blush on his face and the growing erection in his jeans.

Without warning Dean dug his fingers into his ribs, and before he could stop himself he bucked Dean off long enough for him to flip himself over, arms wrapped protectively around his ribs, so that Dean was straddling his hips and what was unmistakably his hard cock.

Dean's hands stilled and he stared at Cas quizzically for a moment, then his eyes widened and his mouth formed a small _oh_ of surprise.

"Um," Cas said, his face burning. "Uh, sorry, I, um." He tried to wiggle out from under Dean -- immediately regretting it as the friction had him biting back a moan -- but Dean locked his knees tight around his waist.

"Cas?" Dean whispered, his eyes unreadable.

"Um," Cas said again, his hands still tucked against himself.

Dean slowly reached down and tugged them free, pushing them down to his sides, then laid his own hands tentatively on Cas' stomach, thumbs just underneath his shirt.

"Dean?" Cas whispered. "What are you --" He choked on his words as Dean leaned forward slightly, and Cas felt the answering hardness in his jeans. He stared up at Dean, breathing going shallow, until Dean finally leaned down further, infintesimally slow, and pressed their mouths together.

Cas couldn't begin to catch the moan dragged from his throat, nor the way his back arched and breathing hitched.

He pulled back, embarrassed, but Dean just slid a hand under the back of his head, pulling him back in, and rolled his hips sharply.

" _Dean_ ," Cas gasped, and Dean took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, sliding his tongue into Cas' mouth.

Cas reached up to grip Dean's hips until they were rocking together, and Dean sucked in a breath -- sucked in _his_ breath, Cas thought distantly. He slipped his left hand under the hem of Dean's shirt, pushing it up his back, and dragged his fingernails over his spine.

Dean groaned into his mouth, then broke the kiss slowly, leaning his forehead against Cas' and breathing raggedly.

"Um," Dean echoed. He stared at Cas, then his eyes drifted down to his shoulder. He reached down and plucked out a wad of paper.

Cas stared at it in confusion, then burst out laughing. He rolled over, pushing Dean off, then sat up, shaking the rest of the paper out from his shirt.

"I, uh," he said, rubbing his neck. "I... sorry."

"You --? Oh. You... want to stop." He drew back, straightening his clothes. Cas' eyes shot to his face, and there was confusion there, but no disgust or regret.

"Fuck, no," Cas breathed, grabbing Dean's wrist. "Not if -- not if you don't."

Dean blinked at him for a moment, then Cas found himself on his back again, with Dean stretched on top of him head to toe, now grinding against his dick with purpose.

They rocked against each other, exploring their mouths and skin, until Cas tugged questioningly at Dean's shirt. Dean tried to yank Cas' shirt off at the same time until they were a tangle of arms and fabric, and Dean finally toppled off Cas, snickering.

"Are -- are you this smooth with everyone?" Cas asked as he finally threw his shirt into a corner.

"Nah," Dean said, rolling to his side and up on his elbow. "Only you, clearly." He ran his fingers down Cas' chest and stomach, skin glowing pale in the moonlight. "You're too gorgeous to be real," he said suddenly, then flushed. "Sorry."

"I've wanted you for ages," Cas confessed.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I thought you were straight, dumbass," Cas pointed out.

Dean paused, then shrugged. "So did I," he said with a grin. "Live and learn, right?"

Cas snorted. "You're impossible, Dean Winchester."

Dean leaned down, nibbling at his lips, and let his hand drift lower, resting on Cas' belt. "Can I...?"

"God, yes," Cas groaned. "But only if I can too." He tried to reach over to work at Dean's waistband, but Dean swatted his hand away.

"One thing at a time," he said. "We already nearly strangled each other."

Cas growled, leaning back. He lifted his hips so Dean could yank off his jeans, then scrambled up to undo Dean's and pull them away, until they were both kneeling in their boxers, facing each other.

They'd seen each other in various states of undress before, of course. Not even just stolen glimpses; after living together for three years, they'd long since abandoned modesty, and regularly flopped on the couch to watch TV in nothing but boxers. But it was different being allowed to look, to look and to _touch_ , and they stared at each other with a shy reverence.

Finally Cas let his hand drift down betweeen Dean's legs, fingertips just trailing gently over his length through the fabric.

"Oh," Dean breathed, his head tipping forward. "Fuck, Cas..." He reached forward, slipping his fingers under the waistband, and stroked the head of Cas' cock, so hard it was nearly poking out of his boxers. "Jesus," Dean said. "You're, uh... you're kinda huge, Cas."

Cas blushed. "Um, thanks." He squeezed at Dean, exploring his shape and earning a long, low groan. "You are too," he said, running a finger from root to tip.

They stayed like that, in gentle exploration, until Cas looked up at Dean, huge blue eyes shining in the pre-dawn dimness. "Can... can I taste you?" he blurted, biting his lip.

"Oh, Jesus," Dean growled. Cas pushed at his chest until he was lying on his back, knees bent and feet on the floor, then tugged his boxers down until his dick bobbed free. Cas knelt between his legs, stroking his thumb up and down the underside, as more and more precome beaded heavily.

He leaned down, just brushing his lips over the tip until they were glistening with moisture, and Dean's breath was high and stuttering.

"Jesus fuck, Cas," he grated out, gasping. "Where'd you -- learn to -- do this?"

Cas just smiled slightly, then wrapped his lips over the head, sucking gently, and Dean cried out, twisting his fingers in Cas' hair.

"Taste so good," Cas breathed, pulling off just long enough to lick his lips, then sank back down, taking him deep into his throat.

“Cas, fuck, gonna --”

Cas just hummed around his cock in acknowledgement, and at the vibration Dean arched and jerked, his hand clenched in Cas’ hair, coming in thick, hot spurts into his throat.

“Um,” he murmured thickly as he sank back to the floor. 

Cas smiled at him, giving him a look through his eyelashes that shifted between shy and smug. He reached down into his boxers, gripping himself and letting out a small gasp of relief, but Dean sat up and batted his hand away.

“Wanna make you come,” he said, leaning in to kiss Cas and tasting himself on his tongue.

“Dean… you don’t have to --” He shut up with a gasp when Dean reached into his boxers, taking him into his fist.

“Gonna have to teach me how to -- how to do what you did to me,” he whispered. “But I -- I think I can do _this_...” He twisted his hand over the head of Cas’ cock, dragging out a low moan.

“Oh, fuck,” Cas growled, digging his nails into Dean’s shoulder, and he could feel Dean’s answering smile against his lips.

“Must be doin’ something right if I can make you curse, angel,” he said.

Cas made a feeble attempt at a scowl, but with his eyes screwed shut and his lips wet and parted, it wasn’t very intimidating.

“Dean,” he gasped, his breath in hot quick puffs against his lips.

“Yeah, baby,” Dean said, jerking him faster. “Come for me, sweetheart, do it, _do it_...”

Cas went rigid and cried out, spilling over Dean’s fist and into his boxers. He took several deep breaths, then opened his eyes, staring at Dean, and collapsed into a heap on the floor.

Dean grinned at him, then dissolved into laughter, slumping into Cas’ side.

“What’s funny,” Cas slurred, trying to glare at him.

“Just,” Dean said. He gestured around them. “We’re _roommates_. We’ve lived together for _years_. And we’re naked on the floor. In the library. In the Religion section.”

Cas looked around blankly, then began to giggle as well. “Classy,” he agreed. He stretched and groaned, then froze. “Shit. Are there cameras in here?”

“Oh, God, there are,” Dean whispered, looking around and pointing. “Wait -- power’s still out, right? I can’t imagine they have security cameras in the _library_ on emergency power when, like, nothing else is.”

“True,” Cas agreed. He looked around hazily, glancing out the window. “Oh -- oh, wow. Dean, look,” he said, nudging Dean’s face towards the east.

The storm had stopped, leaving thick layers of snow everywhere, accented by filigrees of ice. They knelt at the window, watching silently as the first rays of the sun broke through the trees in streaks and speckles of orange and pink.

“Beautiful,” Cas murmured, and Dean kissed his shoulder in silent agreement.

“Oh crap,” Dean said. He pointed at a security guard trudging through the snow toward the library, then pulled Cas down and out of sight. “Uh…”

“Clothes,” Cas whispered, choking on hysterical laughter. “Oh God, clothes. We, uh… we got snowed in. It’s not a lie.”

They yanked on their clothes, then found a couch, lying on opposite ends with their books arranged over their knees.

“Stop laughing,” Dean hissed when he heard the main doors open.

“Stop _talking_ ,” Cas retorted, biting his lip.

Eventually the guard made it up to their floor, stopping in surprise. “Library’s closed for the storm,” he said. “You kids can’t be here.”

Dean cracked an eye, feigning relief. “No shit,” he said, yawning widely. “We were studying late, got locked in and couldn’t get home through the storm…” He shrugged. “Figured we’d just wait it out.”

“Hmph,” the guard said, glancing around. “I should log a report, but doesn’t look like you wreaked any havoc, and that was a nasty storm. Rather kick you out of here than fish you out of the snow. Now go on, the sidewalks are getting cleared.”

As if on cue, the lights in the library came back on, and Dean and Cas automatically glanced at the cameras, exhaling simultaneously as the recording light flashed on for the first time.

“Thank you, sir,” Cas said politely, standing up and picking up his bag. “It was a rough night.”


End file.
